Impossible Geometries
by mochi2isluv
Summary: Daniel collapses outside Mayfair with absolutely no memories of his past. Alexander gives him a farm, thus beginning his simple life of farming and fighting monsters. An impossibly geometrical mix of adventure, mystery, horror, and romance ensues.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So I'm wondering how many people could have possibly played (and enjoyed as thoroughly as I did) both Amnesia and the Harvest Moon Rune Factory games, which I'm beginning to believe is not a lot because otherwise someone else would have come up with this idea long before I have. But anyway, the more I think about this fic the more I think these two games were made to be crossedover. They complement each other just perfectly. And if even one person reads this and agrees with me, my life will be complete.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: I Wish I Could Ask You How Much You Remember<strong>

He stumbled along the road, barely acknowledging where his feet were taking him—not that he would have known, in any case. His mouth was parched and dry as the clouds of dust billowing around his feet as he trudged onward, one foot dragging in front of the other. He was holding something in his hand, he realized. It was an opened bottle, and he brought it up to his mouth eagerly only to remember after the devastating disappointment caused by the lack of sweet, cold water spilling like salvation onto his tongue that he had tried the same thing numerous times before, and it was still empty.

He squinted at the road as he left the forest into the bright sunlight, and his feet abruptly decided without the rest of his approval that this was a very fine place to stop indeed, maybe have a picnic or some such—and despite his brain ordering them to stop that ridiculous nonsense, there was no food for a picnic in the first place, they needed to get _up_ and keep going to find some substantial food and water and, oh, fine, a place to rest—his feet, which were beginning to be persuaded, were already tripping him and he fell to the dusty ground with a thud. Dust did not taste good, his brain told his feet ruefully, and they apologized profusely, but assured him they were unfortunately unable to get up again. So he stayed. But not for long.

Somewhere very close by there was creak and a slam of a door, and it was the most comforting sound in the world.

"Oh my," said a voice, deep and resonant. It sounded kind of muffled, but he assumed that was because of the awful head buzzing. "What do we have here?"

He mustered enough energy to move his head in the direction of the voice and squinted up. A grave mistake. He let out some strangled half-noise and received enough of a shock to roll away and sort of sit up a more comfortable distance from the man's dangling nakedness.

"Erm," he started to say, but his throat was sticky and clogged with dust, and he hadn't actually spoken for a few days, at least.

The man waited patiently, his arms crossed over his bare, hairless chest and his blue eyes staring unblinkingly out of a sharp, defined face. His hair was white and pulled back into a painfully tight ponytail. He wished the man would put on clothes.

"I've—I've been—" He gave up and licked his lips. "Can I have some food and…water?"

"Oh, is that all you wanted?" The man went back into the house and came out with a rusty hoe and a watering can and put them in his lap. "There you are!" he said, looking rather pleased with himself. He stared down at the objects in his lap and the man laughed. "Excuse me, I'm a bit of a practical joker, but that was in poor taste. I'll get you something more, ah, substantial to eat and drink." He made another trip and returned with a tall glass of water and bread.

The water went mostly to his shirt, but it was a welcome relief nonetheless. "Thank you," he managed, through a lump of bread he had been far too eager to swallow.

"Mmm," was all the man said in reply. He continued to inspect him with an intense, blue gaze that he found somewhat embarrassing.

"The name's Alexander," the man said at last, extending a hand and pulling him to his feet. "And yours?"

"My name?" He wracked his brain, but nothing helpful sprung to his aid. Something waved and teased at the corner of his mind, but vanished when he tried to follow. "I don't know where I was when I was coming here. I don't even know who I am."

Alexander nodded sagaciously. "Hmm. So you mean you have amnesia."

He hadn't truly considered that. It hadn't been important up until now. "Yes, I suppose."

"Quite a serious ailment, then. I would offer my assistance, but I'm afraid I know little of the inner workings of the mind." He scratched his chin. "Even so, you should come up with _something_ to call yourself."

Anything? He looked up into the sky and watched a cloud traveling lazily ahead, and tried to catch the fleeing thought once more. _Clink_. He looked down and saw that the bottle had slipped from his hand. He'd forgotten he had been holding it again. It glinted in the sun and rolled slightly to the side, and he noticed something he hadn't been interested in before, since it wasn't water and therefore held no significance at the time. Using his index finger and the neck of the bottle, he pulled the slip of paper out and unfolded it. In a hand that appeared to be rushed but otherwise meticulous, were the words that helped him click at least one thing into place.

_Your name is Daniel. Don't forget._

That was it. Daniel. His name was Daniel. He let go of a deep breath.

"My name is Daniel," he told Alexander, folding the note and the bottle into his rucksack. There were still many other things he would have liked to know—including who wrote the note and how it had come to be in the bottle in the first place—but at the moment simply having a name was enough. Alexander nodded carefully, as if determining whether Daniel was a good enough name for him. It seemed it was.

"Well then, Daniel, how would you like to live here?" Daniel looked up, startled by the offer. Alexander smirked and went on, "I may not know the cure for you amnesia, but I do have an abandoned farm for you to work on, if you so desire. Hard work might help you regain your lost memories. And someone in town might know how to help you."

"There's a town?"

"But of course," said Alexander. "Here, you can keep the hoe and the watering can. My treat. I'll show you the farm and around town, how's that?"

"Oh. That'd be very nice. Thank you," Daniel said. He picked up the rusty hoe and the dilapidated watering can. It was squashed on one side and patched all over, but he filed it into his rucksack as well. He was still a little perturbed by Alexander's lack of clothes, and tried to keep his eyes politely to the ground.

Alexander led him up the road to the north, where a pleasant little farmhouse sat overlooking a spacious field and a nearby stream. Both the field and the farmhouse looked like they needed work—the field was rocky and overgrown with weeds, and the house looked a little like the watering can: patched and sagging. Daniel was far from discouraged, however. He felt a strange stirring at the prospect of fixing an old house.

"This will have to do for now," said Alexander. "This is Brennenburg Farm. Like I said, it's not much to look at. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh, not at all," Daniel replied. He would pull all those weeds, and then he'd have to find a way to clear the logs and boulders…

"Well, if you have any reservations, you can always live with me," Alexander offered, staring at Daniel in an attempt to meet his gaze. He was too occupied in his thoughts to pay him much attention and only answered with a disinterested, "Hm."

Alexander smiled indulgently and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Then I leave Brennenburg to you. The town is up the path to the north, if you wish to visit the folk. It's a holiday though, so everything might be closed."

Daniel thanked Alexander once more, and he left him alone in the fields. He told himself he should go into town and greet his new neighbors—introduce himself at the very least, maybe get some more food while he was at it—but he was suddenly very tired. He swayed on his feet and almost fell again, but he managed to reach the door of the old farmhouse before collapsing onto the bed. The sheets were dusty and filled his nose with the smell, but he was too exhausted to bother about it too much. Tomorrow was the day for hard work and spring cleaning and town visiting and (possibly) regaining some of his lost memories, although that was highly doubtful. He was optimistic nonetheless. Today he would rest.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I have no idea how in depth I want to go with this, so it might be pretty short (ie one or two more chapters after this). If you have any opinions about that, please review! Or pm me or whatever. The Rune Factory games are pretty long and kind of redundant after a while (farming, fighting, waiting around for the romance events basically XD) so I might stop after introducing the townspeople unless I get reviews asking to continue.  
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**A few more things...I'm including characters from Frictional Games' other works, like the Penumbra series and Justine. Sorry, but Agrippa, Alexander, and Daniel weren't enough to fill a town. Also I just love Clarence too much. I couldn't crossover with more than two games though ;3; but if you don't know what they are, I suggest go play them! Or look them up, I suppose, but that's not nearly as fun. Also if you haven't noticed already I'm taking chapter titles from direct quotes of characters from all the Frictional Games games. Extra kudos if you can tell me which game and which character ;)  
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><p><strong>Chapter 2: A Friend That's Dead is a Poor Conversationalist<strong>

The first thing Daniel did when he awoke was make a list of all the things he wanted to get done today. The list looked somewhat like this:

-make list

-inventory/organize rucksack

-wash bedsheets find place to wash bedsheets, then wash bedsheets

-take bath (may be done later, must be done at some point)

-clear field

-visit town

-gather vital information regarding where to buy necessary materials, food, seeds, tools; where to wash bedsheets

The second thing he did was inventory and organize his rucksack. He paused when he found the note and read over it again, staring at the words intently as if it would reveal a hidden message the longer he looked at it. It didn't. He sighed and placed it between the pages at the front of his diary, which he had discovered lying on the bedside table that morning and left the page opened at the list so he wouldn't forget.

"Alright," he said to himself when he was finished, and then shook out his bedsheets and left them in a pile on the bed until he could figure out what to do with them. As he was about to leave to complete his morning chore of clearing the field, a girl naked as the day she was born pushed open the door and strode purposefully across the threshold. A thickset man followed soon after, standing behind the girl with a genial expression on his face. Her own expression was nothing near as welcoming. She wrinkled her delicate nose and thrust her pointed chin in the air, declaring, "Daddy, this place absolutely _reeks_. I don't see why we should have _ever_ deigned to visit in the first place."

The big man—who was similarly clothed, which is to say, not at all—laughed heartily and patted her neatly curled head.

"Justine, don't be rude," he reproached, and smiled apologetically at Daniel. "Good morning! We're the Florbelle's, we live up at the crest in Mayfair. We heard a new neighbor had come to town, and we decided to come say hello! My Justine was especially interested in meeting you."

Justine regarded him intensely, just as unabashed about her nakedness as Alexander. Daniel's skin prickled, and he began to think that if this was how everyone was going to look at him, he might as well not be wearing any clothes.

"They say you have amnesia?" she asked loftily, her dark eyes glinting.

"Um, yes," he stuttered. "I have no memory of anything besides my name."

"_Very_ interesting," she said. Her mouth quirked upwards at the ends at some joke only she herself seemed privy to, but which Daniel had the uncomfortable feeling was about him. "That's all. I can't _stand_ the way this drab place smells! Daddy, we're leaving." She turned around and briskly took her father's arm, her dark curls bouncing after her. She didn't even bother to shut the door, but that was fine because he was going to the fields anyway.

Daniel spent the better part of the morning not thinking about Alexander or Justine or their nakedness or his memory loss and threw all his mental and physical capacity happily into the clearing of his field. It was dirty work, but immensely satisfying. Afterwards, he most decidedly needed a bath, but as the farmhouse didn't offer one he settled for washing his hands and face in the stream and set off up the north road into Mayfair.

The town was extremely small, but Daniel found it rather pleasant. Mayfair was built on top of a hill, and the buildings were all lined behind each other in three rows. At the very top he noticed a tall, brick building on the left and a brilliantly white, intricately ornamented building he determined must belong to the Florbelle's. He entered the nearest building, which sported a sign that read "General Store".

A young man about his age turned around, wearing nothing but shoes and wielding a pickaxe. "Hey," he said. "You're the new guy, right? I'm Phillip. Nice to meet you."

"Thanks," Daniel said, while Phillip put the pickaxe down and offered his hand. "I'm Daniel."

"You're the one Alexander's got his clutches on, huh?" He chuckled. "Don't worry. I was once the new guy too. I came here a couple years ago to continue my father's research in the dungeons nearby. There's some secret deep in those caves, I just know it." His eyes wandered back longingly to his pickaxe. "A man's got to make a living though, and that's why I started this shop. You can find pretty much anything here, I've got it all. Seeds, weapons, feed, you name it. Do you like monsters, Daniel?"

"Er, not particularly."

"Shame. There are some interesting creatures down in the caves. You've got a nice plot of land to build some huts for them, too. You know what, you should take this." He muttered to himself and rummaged through some cupboards before pulling out a set of oversized, thick black gloves.

"Here," he said, looking rather proud of himself. "You'll need a pair of those if you have any hope of taming monsters. They make great pets. You can get useful things from them too, like milk and fur. Occasionally meat."

That did sound very useful. And exploring caves seemed rather thrilling. Almost as thrilling as farming.

"You might find something in those caves that will bring your memory back," Phillip added helpfully. "You know what, I'll give you some seeds, too. Free of charge. I'll just be expecting some nice vegetables from you later on, got it?"

He handed Daniel a package of turnip seeds.

"Thanks," he said, fumbling to put all his new gifts into his rucksack.

"Anytime," Phillip replied with a slight smile, and Daniel continued onward to the next building, upon which the word "INN" appeared to have been scratched into the wood in long, uneven letters.

"Hello?" Daniel said, poking his head through the doorway. He heard a heavy thunk on wood and a satisfied smacking sound before a voice replied, "What've we got here? Alexander's latest addition to the circus?"

A stocky, barrel-chested man sat at one of the tables of the inn, smirking at Daniel as he entered. He took another swig from the mug and said, "Hey. Monkey. Call down the innkeep would ya? That's a good monkey, make yourself useful."

Daniel hesitated, feeling slightly offended by this man's attitude but not sure how to best respond. The man rolled his eyes.

"No, monkey, I told you to get the innkeep, not stand around with an idiotic expression on your face like I've just laid an egg. Get your orders straight, or it's back to the zoo for you!"

"Was someone calling for old Red?" A man—the innkeep, presumably—made his way downstairs holding a rat by the tail.

"What's that, Red old boy?" asked the abrasive man. "Don't tell me you're going to feed that to the customers, cuz if that's so I'm not eating here anymore."

The innkeep looked at the rat with vague surprise, as if he'd forgotten he'd been holding it. "No of course not. I may be mad, so you are thinking, but I would not do such a vulgar thing as that." He tossed the rat into a barrel behind him. "Besides, I'm saving the choicest bits for myself."

The man snorted into his mug. Red raised a hairy eyebrow at Daniel. "And this is…?"

"Daniel," he said, clearing his throat in an attempt to seem more dignified and put together. "I moved into Alexander's farm."

"Oh yes, I knew that already," said Red, waving his hand dismissively. "You are quite the famous one in town, you see, and Red hears everything there is to be heard as soon as it makes its presence known. So how would you like a nice meal, or a pint of ale?"

"Give _me_ a meal, would ya?"

"Meals come later for those with no patience. I am asking Daniel."

"I'm fine, really," Daniel said. "I just wanted to stop by and introduce myself properly." He turned stiffly to the man at the table. "And you are…?"

"Oh, I'm just your friendly neighborhood sociopath," said the man, kicking up his heels and picking at his teeth with his fingernails. "The name's Clarence."

"Well it's been a pleasure to meet you both," Daniel said. "I'll be on my way now."

Clarence leered at him and Red waved cheerily while plucking the rat from the barrel and tossing it—fur and all—into a skillet.

Daniel tried not to feel too disheartened by his previous encounters. Phillip and Mr. Florbelle had been pleasant, to be sure, but Clarence and Justine proved far less welcoming than he'd hoped. And there was something decidedly strange about them all, not least of which was their unfamiliarity with privacy. And clothes. He continued up the road, preoccupied in his thoughts, and bumped into a woman on the way to his next visit.

"Sorry 'bout that," the woman said with a little apologetic laugh. "Oh hey, you're Daniel, aren't you?"

The woman standing before him brushed the brown bangs from her eyes and smiled at him. She took his hand and shook it firmly.

"I'm Amabel. Amabel Swanson," she said. "I'm the resident doctor around here. I'm not really needed much, thank goodness. Everyone seems to get along just fine on their own, which is all well and good until someone decides to go down to the dungeons and explore the caves." She sighed and shook her head. Amabel had warm brown eyes and a warm hand and a soothing voice that almost entirely made up for Clarence, who Daniel was sure had nothing soft or kind about him. But there was something even stranger about her than everyone else, and at last Daniel knew what it was.

"You're wearing clothes," he said stupidly. It was a long, white lab coat and white pants to go with it—nothing much, really, but at least it was something. She blinked at him and then laughed.

"So are you," she said, grinning.

"Why doesn't anyone in this town wear clothes?"

"Yeah, Agrippa doesn't either," Amabel said, jerking her thumb at an old man further up the road, who was bobbing his head and avidly listening to the creeping vines crawling up the brick of the grand building next to the Florbelle's estate. "But he's an old man, and, well, you can see for yourself."

That didn't actually explain the lack of clothes. Or why Philip was only wearing shoes, which Daniel found even more perplexing.

"Agrippa's the mayor," she continued. "Here, I'm assuming you haven't met him yet. Let's go say hi."

Amabel took his arm and tapped the old man's shoulder. "Agrippa, look who's come to visit!"

"And who iz zat?" the old man said, swiveling his wrinkled, bulbous head around to observe Daniel with large, pale eyes. "Ah yes, it iz Daniel. Hello, Daniel. I have heard much about you from Alexander."

Daniel didn't know there was that much to be told about himself. So he nodded and smiled and said, "Oh really?"

"Yes, yes. You are not from here, are you? Would you perhaps know of a young man, by the name of Johann Weyer? He was my pupil, you know. I take great pride in that fact. Perhaps you have seen him before, on your travels?"

"Agrippa, Daniel has amnesia. I doubt very much he would remember having met Johann, if he had," Amabel said.

Agrippa sighed. "Yes, you are quite right. He was my brightest student. I'm sure I have told you, Amabel."

"You have," she nodded.

"Then do you know of Mithraism?" Agrippa went on, peering up at Daniel.

"Can't say that I do," he said.

"Oh, don't get him started, you'll be here all day," Amabel whispered, and dragged him back away. "Bye Agrippa! Daniel will see you if he has any questions! He's really quite knowledgeable, you know, but it's just that, well…" She paused while she fumbled with some keys and unlocked the door to her building, which happened to be the clinic. "He can kind of ramble. Well, this is the clinic, if you ever need a checkup! Or if you just want to come in for a chat. That's fine too." She laughed. "In any case that's all I really have to show you of my place. Have you met everyone yet?"

"Mostly."

She grimaced. "Oh so you know Clarence. And Justine. Yeah, sorry about them. They come on a bit strong. Go on, have a seat, you're making me nervous just standing there."

"No I was just leaving anyway," he said. "I'm on my way to the Florbelle's to say a brief hello before getting back to the farm." Daniel turned around to leave before he remembered something important. "Oh, you wouldn't happen to have a bathhouse around here, would you?"

Amabel cocked her thumb. "Right next door. Help yourself. You look like you need it." She smiled and winked and Daniel was slightly embarrassed by how he must look and smell to everyone he'd met. Which reminded him of the Florbelle's and how much he really didn't want to visit them. He'd already seen them once today, and once seemed quite enough. He made his way to the bathhouse, which was blessedly empty, and took a long, well-needed bath. It was glorious.

When he finally got out of the bath, it was already evening and the lamps along the road were lit. Talking to the townsfolk had taken much more time and had been much more draining than he thought it would be, and he was exhausted. He went back to Brennenburg Farm and wrote all the events of the day in his diary before deciding he needed a new change of clothes, preferably ones that were less dusty.

And he'd forgotten to wash his bedsheets.


End file.
